


First Days And Second Chances

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Molly’s first day back to work after having her daughter with Lestrade and he’s going to enjoy the day alone with his daughter. But complications arrive when he gets stuck in the middle of the fight Sherlock and John are having, and he offers advice to each of the two men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Days And Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meredydd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meredydd/gifts).



> So this was my answer to two of the lovely prompts left by **meredydd** at the 2014 Summer Holmestice challenge over at Livejournal: "Lestrade and Molly are now parents to an infant and he is alone with the baby for the first time ever when Molly returns to work at St. Bart's" and "Sherlock and John are each planning on proposing to the other and trying to be secretive, which leads to each thinking the other is cheating/hiding a major secret/unhappy." This is also an **imagineyourotp** prompt answer ("Imagine Person A coming home after a hard day or long trip to find Person B lying on the sofa, their baby/small child sleeping on their chest"). Just a note: this is edited from the version posted for the fest, thanks to a Britpick I missed about British maternity leave. Many thanks to **saki101** for letting me know about it!

“Are you sure you're going to be all right?”

Greg Lestrade had heard that question multiple times throughout the last few days. Molly meant well, of course. She always did. But he knew she wanted nothing more than to stay just a little longer, delay the inevitable transition that was finishing maternity leave and going back to work. He was just as attached to their daughter as she was, but she had spent every waking minute with Isabelle and it was just about time for him to enjoy some quality time with his baby girl all by himself. “Yes, Molly. We're going to be fine. I've been through this once before, remember?”

“I know, but...” She trailed off the thought and he grinned. There was a difference in their ages, he knew that, and he'd had an entire life with his first wife before he'd gotten his divorce. He had a daughter, Ellie, who was fifteen now. He knew she was trying to think of a delicate way to say thirteen years was a long time to forget about everything he knew about caring for an infant and toddler. “I don't have to go. I can call in sick.”

He shook his head. “You've missed work, missed your colleagues. And just because Ellie is fifteen now doesn't mean I forgot everything I learned when she was young. You've lived with her for the last year so you know I can raise a daughter without noticeable damage.”

“Are you sure?” she asked quietly, biting her lip slightly when she was done. “I mean, absolutely sure?”

“Yes, Molly, I'm absolutely sure,” he said with a nod.

“Well...all right. I suppose I'll go. But promise me if you need anything you'll call, all right?”

“If I get overwhelmed I'll call you first,” he said, going over to his wife. “I promise.” He leaned over and kissed her softly before pulling away. “Now go before you talk yourself into staying even longer. I don't think your superiors would take kindly to you being late on your first day back.”

“Give Isabelle a kiss for me,” she said. He watched her straighten up slightly and square her shoulders as she headed towards the door, and after hesitating a moment she opened it and made her way out of their home. He waited a few minutes to make sure she didn't turn right back around before he locked up behind her and went to the nursery. He looked into the crib and saw Isabelle was still sound asleep. She definitely took after her mother in looks, he realized. And this was absolutely a good thing. Of the two of them he would vastly prefer if Isabelle took after her mother.

He turned on the baby monitor in the nursery and then went back into the sitting room before sitting on the sofa and massaging his leg. So much had changed in the last few years. Most of it was good, but not all of it. The ache in his leg reminded him of one of the bad things that had happened, the reason he was getting an opportunity to be a stay-at-home father this time around. Most of the time these days it didn't bother him, but every once in a while the pain would flare up and he'd think about how close he came to losing everything. The bullets that had ripped through his body had ended his career at Scotland Yard and left him with lingering health issues, but they had also prompted him to initiate what had ended up being the best thing to happen to him since his divorce. If he hadn't almost died he didn't know if he ever would have gotten the brass ones to ask Molly out on a date three years prior, and he knew his life would be ten times worse if he hadn't.

He was happy, for the first time in a very long time. Ellie had always been a source of pride in his life, even when his marriage was falling apart. After the Christmas party five years ago, the one where Sherlock spoke bluntly about his wife's affair, he decided it was high time to end his marriage because everyone was miserable and frankly he and Ellie didn't deserve it. He'd lucked out in that his ex-wife hadn't even bothered to fight for custody, and Ellie had preferred living with him and later with Molly. The fact that stepmother and stepdaughter got along had made him feel quite relieved by the situation. And Ellie had been looking forward to having a half-brother or half-sister when they told her Molly was pregnant, which had also made him pleased. For once, his life was damn near perfect.

Ellie had been there for her sister's birth and the first few months of the four of them living in the same home at the same time had actually been rather peaceful, he had to admit. Ellie was away for summer break at the moment; her best friend had heard about an opportunity to go to America for the summer to a special camp for budding scientists and Ellie had been excited to see if they could go together. When she'd gotten accepted for the program he'd been incredibly proud and sent her off for an adventure in the States. She always sent him an email before she went to bed, and last night had been no exception. He didn't feel like getting up and getting his laptop so he pulled out his phone to check his email on that. And it was sitting there at the very top of his inbox, just like it had every morning. It looked to be another lengthy email, and he couldn't wait to see what other adventures she was getting into.

He settled in to read it and was almost done when he heard whimpering on the baby monitor. With a little effort he got up and made his way back into the nursery. This time when he leaned over the crib he saw Isabelle was fussing slightly. He lifted her up and held her close. “Good morning, your majesty,” he said. Ellie had been Queen Eleanor the Magnificent when she was growing up, and she had insisted her sister be crowned Queen Isabelle the Lovely when she saw her sister for the first time. The fact that Ellie wanted to share the family tradition had warmed his heart very much.

He took her to the changing table to see if she needed to have her nappy changed. It had felt slightly wet and when he got her undressed and opened it to check he saw she did need to be changed. He knew Molly thought he didn't remember how to do all of this but he did. It wasn't rocket science or anything. He deposited the wet nappy in the rubbish bin and set about cleaning her up and changing her into a fresh one. The fussing stopped as soon as he was finished, and he smiled down at his daughter, running his fingers up and down her stomach and chest. She smiled back, and he grinned even wider. She seemed to like this little game an awful lot. After a moment she reached over to grab one of his fingers. “You have quite the grip, your Highness,” he said when she finally grabbed one.

His phone began to ring, and he stopped his game with Isabelle to pull his phone out of his pocket. He had expected Molly but was surprised to see it was Sherlock. Even though he was consulting for Sally now as opposed to him since the two of them had made their amends he'd still call him with a stray question or thought. He supposed he would normally do this with John but that was a bit of a mess right now. He answered the call as soon as he could get his finger away from his daughter. “Yes, Sherlock?” he asked.

“Your wife won't stop crying and I'm at a loss for what I should do,” he said, almost sounding like he was panicking a bit. Sherlock was much closer to Molly than he was with him, and that was fine with him. Having kept his secret all those years ago after he faked his death had given the two of them a bond almost as strong as his bond with John. He'd expected Sherlock to be there her first day back, and he'd rather anticipated that this might happen. “How do I get her to stop?”

“Give her the phone and let me talk to her,” Greg said. “And then if she's still crying when she hands it back give her a warm and friendly embrace, let her cry on you for a bit.”

“Do all women get this emotional when they have to leave their children?” he asked.

“Not always, and not usually this badly. Put her on the phone so I can see how bad it is.”

“All right.”

There was a rustle on Sherlock’s end of the phone and after a moment Molly spoke. “Greg?” she asked, and he could hear a slight sniff, as if she was trying not to cry.

“Isabelle is perfectly fine. I just changed her and I’m with her in the nursery. Would you like me to send photos throughout the day?” he asked gently.

There was another sniff. “Yes, I would. And videos?” she asked hopefully.

He chuckled softly. “I can do videos. Put Sherlock back on the phone and then I’ll hang up and send you a photo.”

“All right. Thank you.”

“I love you Molly,” he said.

“I love you too, Greg.”

He could hear Molly say quietly she was quite embarrassed and she was so sorry to make a scene as he waited for Sherlock to speak again. He said there was no need before he spoke to Lestrade again. “I don’t think she’s going to go on another crying jag. She’s making her way to her office.”

“What set her off, anyway?” he asked.

“All I said was I was glad to see she was back because her replacement had been an insufferable prat and then she started sobbing. I thought I had said or done something wrong.” Sherlock sighed. “Is it going to get easier to deal with her after today?”

“I think once she comes home and sees the house is still standing and Isabelle is perfectly fine she’ll be better tomorrow, and it will get easier each day. And it might help if you just let her cry if she does start again. Comfort her as best you can, but if she does start crying again let her get it out, then text me to send her a picture of Isabelle.”

“I can send the text. I’m not sure how well I can comfort her,” he admitted.

“Well, try. She’s your friend, and you have said you’ll try to be more…normal.”

“I tried with John and look how well that turned out,” he said sourly.

“Well, you know for once you were in the right in a disagreement with him. I mean, I know and you know you would never cheat on him, especially considering none of us thought you two would actually start dating in the first place.”

“But he's keeping a secret of his own,” Sherlock said quietly.

“For all you know it's a surprise for you. Trying to surprise you would take a gargantuan effort, but that would make it even better if he pulled it off. Give him some time and he’ll come to his senses.”

“It’s been over two weeks,” Sherlock pointed out. “Nearly three now.”

Lestrade paused. “Give him more time. It was a big fight. He moved out, after all.”

“I thought things were more serious than he did, I suppose.”

“That's not true. Eventually he'll come to his senses and come back home. It's not as though he broke it off, did he?” There as a pause on Sherlock's end, a rather lengthy one. “Don't tell me he actually ended things,” Lestrade said with a groan.

“Not precisely. But he said he didn't want to look at me or talk to me the day after the argument so I've stayed away. He's made no move to contact me, so I'm respecting his wishes. If that isn't a sign he wants to end things I'm not sure what is.”

“Try talking to him. I'm sure by now he'd be willing to at least talk. And then you can propose.”

“What's the point? He doesn't trust me,” Sherlock said.

Lestrade was quiet for a moment. To be honest, he wasn't sure he was the best person to be giving relationship advice to one of the most stubborn men in the world. He got the feeling nothing he said would convince Sherlock that John still cared. About the only thing that would convince him would be _John_ saying he still cared. He rather hoped it happened soon, because they were both his friends and he really did hate seeing them on the outs. “Talk to him, Sherlock. Don't be accusatory. Just ask him outright. If he does care, move on from there. If he doesn't...”

“If he doesn't then I'll just go back to how I used to be,” he said.

“That would be a waste and you know it. If he doesn't care let him go and move on. I got cheated on and humiliated over it, by you, I might add, and I found happiness again.”

“I suppose,” Sherlock said slowly. “I'll consider it.”

“Do that.”

“In the meantime I’ll need to find someone else to assist me. It's been very trying these last few weeks for everyone who's asked me to consult. Donovan nearly bit my head off yesterday.”

Lestrade winced. The two of them had a much better working relationship once he'd found out she'd broken things off with Anderson and that was why he was no longer at Scotland Yard. In fact, the two of them got on so well that Lestrade wasn't surprised if he actually considered her something close to a friend these days. For the two of them to slide back into bad habits was a very bad sign. “For the record, I am not an option. I’m actually going to enjoy staying home with my daughter this time around,” he said. “But run your thoughts and theories by Molly when she’s at work. She’s more intelligent than I am.”

“That isn’t necessarily true,” Sherlock said quietly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied with a chuckle. “I need to go send Molly that photo so she doesn’t get upset. Just be nearby in case she does start crying again, all right? I worry.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Sherlock. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up on Sherlock and then fiddled with his phone for a moment before taking a picture of his daughter. She didn't really smile in the picture but he hoped Molly could at least tell she wasn’t terrified to be at home with her father. He texted it to her and then stowed his phone, leaving Isabelle on the changing table for a moment. “It’s just you and I for the entire day, your Highness,” he said, grinning down at his daughter. “And we have errands to run.”

He moved away from the table and went to get something warmer to bundle her in, and then he began to get to work on getting her ready. Thankfully it wasn’t anything that required him to take a cab; most of the errands were in a five block radius so all he would need to do was put her in her pram and walk to each destination. He finished getting her ready and made sure the changing bag was fully stocked in case he needed to be out for a while. Then he took her out of the nursery and just as he got her into the pram there was a knock at his door. He frowned. He hadn’t been expecting anybody. He went to the door and opened it, seeing John standing there. John opened his mouth to say something, then spotted the pram behind Lestrade. “I came at a really bad time, didn’t I?” he asked with a sigh.

“I just have to run a few errands in the neighbourhood. You’re more than welcome to join me,” he said.

“All right,” John replied with a nod. Lestrade pushed the pram outside as John moved out of the way, and once the three of them were outside Lestrade closed and locked the door behind him. They turned to the left and began to walk. “Can I ask you a question? And please give me the honest truth.”

“If you're about to ask if I think Sherlock would cheat on you the answer is unequivocally no,” Lestrade said.

“Then what type of secret is he keeping from me? It isn't a normal garden variety secret. I've seen him do that so many times over the years that I know when he's doing it within five minutes of him having the secret to keep. This is different. This is bigger. I know he talks to Molly. Has she said anything to you?”

Lestrade thought for a moment. He knew the big secret, but it really wasn't his place to say anything, especially with Sherlock having second thoughts. “If I told you I knew what the secret was and it wasn't anything that would hurt you or make you unhappy, would that suffice?” he said slowly.

“He told you? He told you and not me?” John asked, his eyes wide.

Lestrade nodded. “He asked for my advice, I gave it to him and he made me swear not to tell you. So I'm going to honour my end of things. But I promise, it's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a good thing. Or it is if he still wants to do it.”

“He was planning a surprise of some sort, wasn't he?” John asked quietly.

“Yes,” Lestrade said with a nod. “You know him better than all the rest of us. Do you _really_ think he'd cheat on you? I mean, with as much attention as he pays you do you think he has enough room in his life for anyone else who isn't strictly a friend or colleague?”

“No, I suppose not,” he replied thoughtfully. Then he sighed. “I mucked it all up, didn't I?”

“Yeah, I'd say you did. But you can still fix it. I literally got off the phone with him less than a half hour ago. If you apologize I think he'd be willing to accept it. Because in this instance, you were the one in the wrong and you were the one acting childish over the whole thing. After all, _you're_ the one who moved out and insisted he not talk to you. This is Sherlock we're talking about. When it comes to you he'll do anything you want, even if it makes him unhappy.”

John was quiet for a moment. “I never expected for this to happen. Any of it, really. I mean, I'd entertained the possibility of being attracted to men before him, but not acted on it. And then I met him and things happened and when he broached the idea I seriously considered it. After the shock, of course.”

Lestrade grinned slightly. “Trust me, Molly and I were just as shocked. Neither of us thought thought he liked men that way. Or women, for that matter. Molly said she thought he was asexual, to be honest. I'll admit I had to have her explain it to me, but once she did I could see why she felt that way.”

“I'd have thought the same thing. I did, actually, for years.” John looked over at Lestrade. “Before this fight I was actually quite happy. Sherlock was a better boyfriend to me than nearly every girlfriend I've ever had. I'd been thinking of making things a bit more...permanent. And official. And then he gets secretive and I convince myself he's cheating and then one huge blowup later we're in two separate residences and I'm completely miserable.”

“He's not all that happy himself. He thinks you don't trust him, and I'll admit that's going to be something the two of you will need to work on if you actually want your relationship to not wither away. Once you lose someone's trust, or you think you've lost their trust, it's hard to come back from that.”

“So how do I do it?” John asked.

“You apologize, and then you make sure he knows you were very much in the wrong and you do actually trust him. And you keep telling him that every time he asks, and you never ever let it get to that point again.” Lestrade looked back at Isabelle after a moment. “Just talk to him. Make the first move. It probably wouldn't hurt if you do it in private, though, in case I'm wrong. I don't think either of you need an audience for this conversation anyway. But do it soon. Like, today. The longer you wait the harder it will be to mend this breach between you.”

“I'll talk to him as soon as I can,” John said with a nod. “Do you still want company?”

“If you want to go find him I can take care of all of this on my own,” Lestrade said with a grin. “And besides, it's my first day alone with Isabelle. I'd like to bond with my daughter a bit more before her mother gets home.”

“I can take the hint,” John said with a chuckle. “Thanks, Greg. I owe you.”

“You'll only owe me if you two make amends,” he replied. “So go. Tell me how it goes so I know if Sherlock doesn't tell Molly first.”

“I will,” John said with a nod.

He moved away from Lestrade to hail a cab, and after a moment one stopped and he got in. Lestrade began to move forward again, intent on finishing up the errands before Isabelle demanded a bottle. Things did not go according to plan, however, and he was forced to make a quick bottle without warming it up an hour later. Finally, two hours after that he made his way back home. He got the pram inside and then lifted his daughter out. “Next time I put you in the car seat and we take a cab to run errands, agreed?” he asked her. She yawned in response and he smiled. “I think it's time for both of us to take a nap.”

He carried her into the nursery to put the changing bag away, and then started to put her in her crib. After a moment, though, he changed his mind and headed out towards the sofa. He carefully laid down on it and after a moment put Isabelle on his chest. Then he reached over for the remote on the table in front of him and turned on the telly. It had been a long day so far and it wasn't even two in the afternoon yet. He rubbed Isabelle's back as he slowly started to drift off to sleep himself, telly still on. He knew he wasn't the type to toss and turn, especially on the sofa, and that was the only reason he allowed himself to actually sleep.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when he heard footsteps nearby him. He wasn't generally a deep sleeper, but he had slept through someone opening the front door. And then he heard the click of a camera before he opened his eyes. He looked up and saw Molly standing there, phone in hand and smile on her face. “I couldn't resist,” she said.

“What time is it?” he asked, moving Isabelle slightly to sit up. His daughter was still asleep, and after a moment Molly sat down next to him. She put her arms out and he handed Isabelle to her.

“Nearly three-thirty. I started to cry again, this time in front of my supervisor, and she took pity on me and told me to come home early, just to make sure everything was okay. She said we'll try again tomorrow for me to do a full shift.”

“That's good,” he said.

“Did you have an eventful day?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just ran some errands and let Isabelle get heaps of attention. Oh, and I may have helped salvage Sherlock and John's relationship. Or at least I hope I have.”

Molly chuckled slightly. “That's enough to wear anyone out, I imagine.”

“Well, they're both stubborn men,” he said with a grin as Isabelle began to stir. “I think she's waking up now.”

“Does she need a bottle, do you think?”

“She might. It's been a few hours since she's eaten.” He went to stand up but pain shot through his leg and he sat back down. “Give me a few minutes and I'll go make her a bottle.”

“No, it's all right. If you hold her I can do it,” Molly said, shaking her head. “I mean, I'm intruding on your time alone with her.”

“If you're sure,” he said slowly.

“I am. I can see she's perfectly fine, and that helps.” She gave him a wide grin. “I think tomorrow will be easier. I hope it will, at any rate.”

“I think it will be,” he said with a grin of his own. Molly handed Isabelle back to him, and the little girl blinked and scrunched up her nose but didn't start crying. “I'd go make that bottle now if I were you, in case she starts to cry.”

“All right,” she said as she got up.

He watched her make her way into the kitchen and then cradled Isabelle in his arms. All in all, his first day alone with his daughter hadn't gone too badly, even if it hadn't gone quite how he'd expected. He just had to hope that tomorrow went better for Molly, because he really had enjoyed the time alone with Isabelle. And as he gazed down at his daughter, giving her a grin, he thought that he might be lucky enough that tomorrow it would be easier and he'd get a whole day alone with her. That was what he wanted more than anything else right now.


End file.
